Winter Sonata
by Tsuki-no-Kurokage
Summary: AU "You know, there's a story behind every piece. Its origins, its style, its period. Perhaps...this is our own piece. Our own story...our own music." Follows Kiniro no Corda's plot, with some twists. Multi pairings.
1. Stroking the Notes of Ice

_A whole new title, but the plot still remains the same. Well I hope you still enjoy the story nonetheless. There's nothing new in this chapter, except that I deleted the author's note at the end. I don't think you should know of what happened to me anymore –grins sheepishly- As always, I do not own Bleach nor La Corda._

* * *

**Winter Sonata 01**

**Stroking the Notes of Ice**

* * *

Heavy footsteps made their way down the staircase, the impact of the foot against the step echoing in the rather empty hallway. They then dragged themselves along the wooden floor in the direction of the kitchen, halting before the dining table. Owner of said elephant feet dragged the chair and settled down quickly, scowling and resting his chin on his palm.

His stare fell upon the figure standing before the stove. Smoke soon reached the ceiling as the smell of sunny-side ups overwhelmed his nostrils. The adolescent, however, took the fragrance as an everyday matter, and scoffed instead, tapping his foot and watching his father impatiently. He would be the last one to leave the house again today, and if he had a choice, he would leave for school straight away, but nooo…the thought of going hungry during lessons and distracting his classmates by the growling of his stomach would earn him a detention. Of course he wouldn't allow that to happen again, and he made sure he told his father that. But the breadwinner of the family made no evident effort.

He knew his old man was aware of his presence in the kitchen. He knew his old man was just ignoring that presence. But couldn't he at least **pretend **to know that his hungry son would be late for school for the fifth time and give him the breakfast he needed!? Damn, sometimes he wondered if his father's mental stability was passable in terms of parenting…

The sliding of a plateful of breakfast and a glass of orange juice against the dining table soon came into view. On the plate were two sunny-side ups, a sausage above each egg, and a line of…sliced strawberries along the bottom of the eggs. Overall his breakfast of the day looked like the smiley face treat his classmates told him about…except with a slightly gayer tone. The eggs and sausages were fine, actually…but the strawberries were definitely the last straw.

"Iiiiiiiiiiichigoooo!" the chef yelled out in ecstasy, only to be met with a clenched fist to his face. The father of the adolescent, Ichigo, merely laughed it off and wiped the blood away from his nose as if it were an everyday occurrence (in all actuality, it was). He stepped behind his son's seat and grabbed him by the shoulders, earning him a growl from the young teenager. "Ichigo, this is the effort your old man put into for your sake…sniff," Isshin said, wiping crocodile tears from his eyes. "And now you get to brag to those friends of yours about how caring your father is! Ahh, imagine how jealous they will be of you, Ichigo…sniff, your father will be so proud of you…aren't you proud of your daddy too?"

The adolescent's scowl just deepened further as he poked his egg with a fork and forced all the yolk to leak out. "Yeah, swell," Ichigo replied dryly, poking the other egg next. He watched the yellow fluid flood the plate, bathing the sausages and strawberries in yolk. "I'm practically shedding tears of joy right now, so could you please get the hell away from me," the orange-haired teenager spat darkly, rolling his eyes.

"Ah yes, this is what the puberty book always says; something-something about…about…hmm." Isshin looked down on his son, who had picked up the glass of orange juice and begun gulping the refreshment hungrily, and turned, back facing the other's back, and snatched the pocket-sized puberty book, flipping the pages as noiselessly as he could. "…er…ah! It's something about…PMS-ing, isn't it?"

Ichigo immediately spewed out the orange juice out and slammed the cup against the table, wiping his mouth with his sleeve and fighting against the coughing fit. Oh, how much he wanted to shove his father's face into the mud outside right now…and leave him there for a decade or so. He stole a glance at the empty glass; what a waste of that orange juice. And all because of what?

The stupidity of his father.

"Dad, it is **not **PMS-ing! PMS-ing is-oh crud," the orange-haired adolescent mumbled, looking down at his beeping watch. He pressed the alarm button, and grabbed the plate. "I don't have time right now! I'm gonna be late for school again, and it's all because of you!" Ichigo yelled as he scrambled for an obentou box to store his food; he was going to have to eat on his way to school.

The sniffing of his father did not distract him, and neither did the not-so pitiful whining which he had gotten used to hearing every single day of his life. Cries of 'Ichigo, do you hate me…?' filled the house, but the cries were not answered verbally. Instead, the slamming of the main door became the answer, and it sent Isshin to his knees as tears streaked down his face like waterfalls.

Ichigo, on the other hand, was racing against time. He sprinted like he never sprinted before, munching on the sunny-side up and the sausages before slurping the egg yolk, leaving the strawberries aside. It would do fine for a snack during break time, after all.

That is, if he managed to escape from break time detention.

* * *

The greenery and pale blue skies were the closest things to nature he could ever be before the serenity of the scene was replaced by the bustling streets and irksome traffic jams along the highway. Bungalows and terrace houses seemed to stretch along the streets forever, just like how the beautiful blanket above them stretched to never-ending means…

He closed his eyes and sighed, relaxing against the cushiony seat of the limousine. "Is something the matter, obousama_?_"

The treasure chest opened, revealing the glistening emeralds from within. "Hm?"

"Is something the matter?" the concerned voice repeated. "If you don't mind me saying, sire, you have become noticeably tired recently…is something wrong?"

"…No, it's nothing," the young master replied, shaking his head as he did so. The chauffeur said nothing in return, and the white-haired adolescent rested his elbow on the door handle, pressing his cheek against his palm, and eyes gazing out into the skies through the window. If not for the annoying, though unclear, reflection of himself on the window, he wouldn't be so petty over a matter concerning appreciation for nature.

Music sang out to his ears, but he shrugged it off inwardly; it had been the norm for him since the day he was born. The flute's beautiful and peaceful tone came in first, before it attempted to reach even higher notes at a softer and gentler wave. Synchronizing piano notes followed soon after, playing one octave lower than how the flute sounded, and then the cello, the instrument playing the lowest notes of the piece playing from the music disc.

To his surprise, the piano went solo not long after. The young student could tell that the pianist was amazingly skilled, playing from some of the lowest piano notes and suddenly playing five octaves higher without any transition, and yet the notes sounded as if they had merged together, not separate and stiff as some pieces could possibly turn out to be. It was like the lower notes and the higher notes were…in harmony.

A few minutes passed before the young master relaxed and gazed into the nature once more. The piece ended too abruptly; it was a pity, really. There could've had been more room for the piano and cello to shine, but the piece had ended off with the flute playing solo, and a soft violin tone at the background along with nearly undetectable music from a wooden flute. If not for his sharp hearing, he wouldn't have had been able to tell exactly which instruments contributed to the background music and which didn't.

He sighed, and rubbed the bridge of his nose. No longer would he ever get anything more than a few winks of sleep, even in his present exhausted state. There were just too many things to settle, in school and at home. No one in the Hitsugaya family had been getting well-earned rest for **weeks, **and that included the maids, the servants, family chef, and even the chauffeur himself.

He hadn't really wondered why, but it wasn't like he cared about it much. His parents weren't willing to say anything, and when the maids and servants were questioned, they tried to change the subject. Obviously his parents must've had given them a 'pay rise' that would shut their traps…if there was one thing the heir to the Hitsugaya family business really hated other than idiots, it would be that.

The view suddenly changed to a horde of students, wearing the autumn-style uniforms, dashing like madwomen up the slope. A few clumsy bums tripped on their own foot and caused an uproar while the domino effect took place. Hitsugaya scoffed; idiots would remain as idiots, after all. Nothing changed around here, he figured.

The front door closed quietly as he watched his chauffeur place his gloved hand on the handle of the limo door, pulling it open. As much as he hated to be frank, he really didn't want to come to school this early; he'd rather be late for once, but since he had already reached school, he didn't really have a choice. It had taken a while before the Hitsugaya successor was willing to step out into the open, grabbing his school bag as he did so. He sighed and adjusted his uniform neatly, buttoning up his collar. Typical model student.

But of course, what would a model student be without the existence of—

"HITSUGAYA-SAMA!!"

…fangirls?

* * *

"Rukia-san! Rukia-san!" Said raven-haired girl blinked when she heard her name being called, and looked to her left. A taller female came running towards her, waving her hand continuously. "Ohayou!" the orange-haired girl greeted. She stopped her running only when she reached the school gates.

"Ohayou, Inoue-san," Rukia replied with a smile. The soft slam of the limo door behind her indicated that the chauffeur was ready to drive back home. She turned, watching a figure with jet black hair similar to hers walking to the school gates, and her smile immediately faded away. "N-nii-sama_, _I'll see you here after school, right…?" she mumbled as she bowed respectfully.

The raven-haired man stopped in his tracks and turned to face his bowing sister, expression unchanging. "Don't bother about such petty details, Rukia," he spoke coldly. "Make sure that you get to your class before you are late. I will not tolerate late students."

Before his sister could reply, he had already departed for the teachers' staff room. Rukia released a relieved sigh that was tugging at her vocal chords, trying to relax even after the stiffening conversation with her older brother. A warm hand rubbed against her back smoothly, and the violet-eyed girl turned to look at a certain redhead who had his hand on her back, grinning and finishing off the relief procedure with a few pats on her back.

She smiled at her childhood friend, and then at her classmate. They turned and walked through the school gates together before settling down on a bench nearby. The restless redhead kept on pacing up and down the school grounds while Rukia was busy capturing the moment on her sketchbook. Inoue, on the other hand, was flipping through the pages of her recipe book to see if she could get any inspiration for dinner that night.

Renji couldn't stop checking his watch, and even gave it a few flicks to make sure the battery didn't run out or something. Rukia stared at him like as if he were a complete dolt, but continued minding her own business with the sketching, also impatiently checking her own watch at ten-second intervals. It wasn't long before the school bells rung melodically, and the once empty school grounds were immediately filled with packs of students running for their lives.

The ground shook as if an earthquake were occurring, the fresh leaves from the branches above disrupted Rukia's fantastical world of art as they got in her way, and the apparently latecomers screamed to each other to hurry up before the discipline master could get a tab on them. The red-haired pineapple gave a yelp when a random student amongst the crowd stomped on his foot. He jumped into the air like a high jumper and fell to the ground, landing on a pile of autumn leaves.

Said student turned around and ran towards the supposed casualty, reaching his hand out. "A-ah! _Warui! Daijoubu ka!?_" Instead of a clear answer, a spike of red hair popped out of the pile of leaves, and surprised the clumsy student off his feet. They blinked blankly, before the one responsible for Renji's sore foot pointed at him with his index finger. "R-Renji!?"

"Ichigo!?" the pineapple-styled student yelled back. He grunted and slapped the hand away, placing his own hands in his pockets. "You pig-face, where the hell have you been? We're late, and it's all 'cuz of you!"

"Oi, don't go around accusing me!" Ichigo protested as he jumped to his feet. "If you don't wanna be late, then why the hell are you and Rukia and Inoue still hanging around here!? Just go to class already!"

"We **would**, if not for some oversleeping pig!"

"Who are you calling-!?"

"Both of you, shut up!!" Rukia screamed at the top of her voice, smashing a coconut on each of their heads. Mentally, she smirked evilly at the two of them on their knees, groaning as they held their poor, injured heads which began harvesting little painful sores. Slurping the coconut juice hungrily and handing the other coconut to a frightened Inoue, she grabbed the two boys by their collars and held them to their own feet. "Stop arguing like the idiots you are, and let's move it! Nii-sama will certainly give us all detention if we don't rush to class now!"

"Byakuya…? Hey, isn't his lesson like, after Kyouraku-sensei's?"

Rukia sent Ichigo a glare and knocked his head against the now hollow husk of the coconut. The orange-haired strawberry nearly swore out loud when he saw little birdies flying about in his vision. "Baka! Today is Thursday! First period of the day is nii-sama's lesson! Kyouraku-sensei's lesson is **after **nii-sama's!"

"Alright, alright, cool down, Rukia…" Ichigo scowled, rubbing his sore head. "I wouldn't have such a bad headache if not for you and that stupid coconut of yours…" Pause. He turned to Renji, and they both blinked confusedly. "…By the way, where did you get that coconut?"

The raven-haired girl flashed them an evil grin. "It was on sale yesterday. Nii-sama bought them for me. I just brought one to school to have it for break."

"D-d-did you say…Kuchiki-sensei bought them for you!?" Poor Ichigo couldn't say anything; he was too mortified to. A firm grip came to the stunned strawberry's shirt as the red-haired pineapple began shaking him senseless, trying to get him out of his daze. "I-Ichigo! It's damn trouble! Kuchiki-sensei must've cursed this coconut and made it so thick and hard that it hurt when Rukia knocked it against us! We're cursed! We've been cursed by the Kuchiki curse!!"

The violet-eyed Kuchiki knocked Renji next and shook the both of them violently. "Stop making nii-sama sound so horrible and let's go! Seriously…I think you two have been watching too many horror movies lately…"

* * *

At Karakura Academy, everyone was part of the Karakura Academy family. The staff, the pupils and even the cleaners. The staff, which included the principals and the teachers, would be known as the heads of the family, leading the pupils – who would be the ones moulding the future of the family – into doing the right things and making the right decisions. The children of the family would be like obedient little doggies, following their masters' every command, but at the same time, they could be the worst of the devil children, rebelling at every second of every minute of every hour of the day. The cleaners would of course be the servants and maids, doing their best to maintain the best cleanliness and service to the family.

All in all, would you say that Karakura Academy was the best family of all the families out there?

Parents, teachers, and some of the students agreed that it was certainly a choice they did not regret. However, that might not be the case for most of the students who were practically forced into studying there, or perhaps avoiding some personal matters that required some looking into at home. But the most likely case would be when the students get detention from their teachers.

And so, while all their classmates were busily enjoying themselves in the canteen or down the hallways, or maybe even actively taking part in physical activities out in the field, only they had to stay behind in class, stuck with nothing but a room full of chairs and tables, and a blackboard which was deprived of its chalk.

When Byakuya told them that they had to stay back for detention, Ichigo and Renji protested that they didn't mean to be late, and began making up lame excuses to cover up the fact that Ichigo had caused them to be late (Renji brought that matter up, but Byakuya wouldn't hear of it). After the teacher of the period before break left, the Kuchiki entered the classroom and practically chased all of the students out with his infamous death glare, asking for his sister and for her friends to remain.

Admittedly, Rukia didn't dare provoke her elder brother, and Inoue thought the same. But Ichigo and Renji wanted their damned break, so they were gonna get that damned break even if they were gonna get the damned break by forcing Byakuya up the wall. They wouldn't mind returning to school to serve their detention during the holidays; all they wanted was their damned break, and hell, they were gonna make sure that they get that damned break.

Byakuya just told them to stay back after school for saying the word 'damned' so many times.

He even went so far as to bring the box of chalk into his possession, claiming that he would return it to the class after the break. Clearly, he didn't want any of the ill-mannered children to speak badly of him by writing rubbish on the board. Ichigo and Renji were already misbehaving during class by passing notes to each other, mainly talking about how much of a scary jerk he was. He was already merciful enough not to send them to the discipline master.

Thus, boredom sunk into their empty skulls as time passed by. Strangely enough, back then they wished – they, being the guys – that there would be an extension of break time to an hour. But now, they could only wallow in the depths of depression and utter boredom, watching the minute hand move along at a turtle-like pace. Heck, they wanted the next teacher to come in right now and teach them the syllabus for the day so that they could impress their classmates, but of course, that wouldn't happen.

Because their next sensei just so happened to be Byakuya again.

Surely the teacher who gave them the detention wouldn't want to let them off so easily by shortening the detention period. If they were to mutter the word 'beg', they were certain that the Kuchiki would break a pencil and send the halves hurling towards them. Not that they had witnessed or experienced that before; they only heard of the few horrifying experiences from the lips of their fellow schoolmates and seniors who either have or had Byakuya as their sensei. One time the newspaper published a short report on how two rebellious students ended up in the hospital after pissing an anonymous teacher off. No doubt that that 'anonymous' sensei was none other than Kuchiki-sensei himself.

No wonder he was known as the Akuma Sensei (Demon Teacher).

Ichigo gave a groan and made it as pained and tortured as possible. "C'mon, Renji, let's get outta here," he declared, poking the dazed pineapple.

Rukia looked up in her mid-sketch. "And just where do you think you're going, Ichigo?" Without him realizing, her fingers moved quickly to make a mini-sketch of him at the corner.

"Somewhere you can't go, Rukia," the strawberry replied, smirking a little.

The sister of the Demon Teacher, however, didn't like that witty smirk he had on his face. And Renji grinning along wasn't helping. "Yeah, Rukia, never heard of nature's call?"

Said raven-haired seventeen-year-old stared at them suspiciously; they were up to something, and she had a vague idea what. After knowing them since elementary school, she was sure that those two had something up their sleeves, and they would always give the excuse of going to the toilet where they could discuss their secret plans without any females disrupting them. How…smart and idiotic it was, at the same time. Smart, because she and Inoue would have no idea what they were up to. Idiotic, because if her respected brother just so happened needed to answer nature's call as well, he would be able to get hold of their plans and prevent further damage to his reputation.

She sighed anyway; she couldn't do anything, could she? After all, she had run out of spare coconuts. "Fine, go and be the stupid idiots you are. But don't expect me to explain to nii-sama on your behalf!"

"We don't need to explain anything to that high and mighty nii-sama of yours," Ichigo retorted, swinging an arm around Renji's neck, and allowed his hand to hang loosely. "So, Renji, about the killer homework that Byakuya gave us…"

"Ughhhh! You two are just incorrigible!" Rukia yelled after them, popping her head from the doorway. She tore out the sketch she was working on and rolled it into a ball, sending it hurling towards them with all her might before making a retreat back into class, deciding that she should start on a new piece – and call it 'Death and the Strawberry', dedicated to her nii-sama enjoying himself while slicing strawberries and mixing them in a juicer to make himself some strawberry squash.

Ichigo felt something tap against his head. He scratched the itchy part while a crumpled ball of white caught his eye. He and Renji halted in their tracks. The orange-haired strawberry then bent down and took the ball of paper, slowly unfolding it. On it was a rough sketch of two bears and two rabbits; one of the bears had a body like that of a strawberry's, and the other had hair like a pineapple's, while the shaded rabbit was biting on the strawberry, and the supposedly white rabbit crying and isolating itself away in a corner.

The two of them had twitched noticeably on their way to the toilet, the words 'I'll kill Rukia' surfacing in their minds not too long after. They crumpled the piece of paper, and Renji stuffed it in his pocket. That would serve as a reminder to get that girl later.

Ah, the washroom wasn't that much further now. Just turn at the corner and—

"What the—oi!"

And the next thing Ichigo knew, his back was kissing the floor. He heard Renji's stifled laughter before it eventually burst out; oh, how much he wanted to kill both Rukia and Renji…and who in the name of hell knocked him down anyway? He was going to kill that person too, whoever he was.

He leapt to his feet and dusted himself. His mouth opened to yell at whoever was at the ground in front of him – served him right – but no words came out. The orange-haired strawberry blinked at the person who had just knocked into him, or should it be the other way around? Renji confusedly pushed the strawberry's jaw back into place, but it just fell wide again. He waved a hand in front of his seemingly traumatized classmate, hoping to get a slap for his hand to get out of his vision, but he gained no response.

Ichigo, on the other hand, felt that he had suddenly been transported into another world – a world without Renji, Byakuya, Rukia, Inoue, and even the school or home itself – where only he and the fallen party existed. His stare did not leave the snow white hair that gave the colour white a bad name, and that figure…that stature…

"Um…Hey, are you ok?" he asked concernedly, offering to lend a helping hand. But the other party dismissed it with a wave of his hand, and stood on his own two feet on his own, dusting himself as he did so. Ichigo realized; he hadn't seen the other person's eyes, or his face, for that matter. "About just now…I'm sorry. It was my fault. I wasn't looking carefully. I won't let it happen again, I swear!"

"…I'd rather not have a next time," the white-haired student replied, finally opening his eyes to take a good look at the accident-causer. Ichigo sucked in a sharp intake of breath; those eyes…they were the most beautiful eyes he had ever seen. Never once in his life had he seen someone who had such unique and beautiful eyes, no, not once.

"Ah…from your uniform, you look like a student from the Music Department, right?" Ichigo asked curiously, eyeing the familiar suit that only Music Dept. students could wear. "It…must've been hard to get into the Music Dept, eh? Heard there are lots of tough entrance exams…"

A silvery white eyebrow raised at the sudden change in subject, but the white-haired music student paid no heed to it thereafter. Instead, he closed his eyes and placed his hands in his pockets. "It's none of your business," he replied coldly, gluing his eyes to the ground next. "Now, if you may excuse me…I don't wish to be late for my next class."

Ichigo remained in a daze as the music student proceeded to walk past him, not seeming to give a damn about the red-haired adolescent's presence nearby. A sudden spasm clicked in his arm. "W-wait!" he called out as he suddenly turned around and grabbed the unusually thin arm, holding the owner of the arm back. "Um…I'm Kurosaki Ichigo. And…I wanna know your name." The shock expressed in the other's eyes hinted to him that it was a very sensitive matter to him, but before Ichigo could mutter an 'oh shit' he carried on, "'Cuz you know, I have a feeling that we'll meet again someday, and I wanna know your name so that I don't have to call you 'little guy' all the time, y'know."

Hitsugaya twitched when the orange-haired teen patted him on the head. It was as clear as glass that the other was treating him like some kind of baby, even for his age. Well, that explained why the doofus was so shocked when he saw that he was wearing the Music Dept. uniform. He probably thought that he was some kind of genius or something to be able to get into a high school at 'his age'. That just about did it…

He smacked the hand away and grabbed it by the wrist, turning the tables around. "If you think of me as a mere child, then you thought wrong." The grip on Ichigo's wrist tightened, earning a pained yelp from the one in pain. "Listen closely, Kurosaki Ichigo, because if I have to repeat myself the next time we meet, you will never see the light of day ever again."

"G…go on…" Ichigo groaned, voice strained and considerably at a higher pitch (oh gosh, Renji was laughing his ass off).

"I am not what you consider as a 'genius'," he began. "I came here only because I am eligible to, nothing more, nothing less. I passed the exams through hard work, and came to the Music Department only to further my studies centring music. If you, an idiot, cannot comprehend the hard work I have put into and think of me as a child no older than twelve, then you are what I would call the king of idiots. And I **detest **being around idiots," he added venomously, albeit loosening his grip on the other's wrist.

"…If there is nothing more, then I will take my leave." The white-haired teenager then released his hold, and turned, his back facing the orange-haired strawberry. He took a step forward before he paused, and turned to face him slightly. "My name is Hitsugaya Toushirou, and I hope that your feeling is wrong, because I do not wish to get myself acquainted with the likes of you," he added before walking away down the corridors.

Out of his curiosity, Renji took a peek at the white-haired guy who just gave his friend a good grip on his wrist. He stopped and looked around suspiciously, before he picked up the pace and almost looked as if he were jogging. Renji blinked twice in rapid motion, wondering to himself why the hell the brat seemed as if he were running away from something. High-pitched squeals came in his way, and a horde of fangirls came rushing by as they literally chased their dreams – well, the man of their dreams, anyway.

He gripped his classmate's shoulder. "Oh well…now that that's over with…Oi, weren't we supposed to—huh?" The red-haired general ed student gave the orange-haired adolescent a poke in the shoulder. "Oi, are you listening to me, Ichigo!? Or have you gone deaf from the shock?" When his friend did not reply, the dumbness of the Kurosaki started to worry him.

It shocked him even more when Ichigo suddenly spun around and looked at the now empty corridor like a puppy watching its master leave for school.

He looked at the red mark around his wrist, and tapped it gently. _Well, it might've hurt…but it hurt for a good cause,_ he mused silently as his fingers curled themselves around the injury, enjoying the biting iciness sink into the bones of his fingers. A sad smile found its way to his face as he gentle ran his fingers over the crimson mark.

"…And that's all that matters, I guess."

"Huh?"

Ichigo did not say anything else. Instead, he turned to look once more, even though he knew he wouldn't see that tuft of white hair unless fate allowed him to. And he would very much rather see those beautiful eyes should the chance ever arise again.

"Toushirou, huh?" he asked no one in particular, smirking to himself. "It suits him."

_I w__onder what instrument he plays…_

"…I hope it's the violin."

* * *

The white-haired music student entered the soundproof room, locking the door as he closed it behind him. He walked towards the piano calmly and lifted the cover up. The soft tone of 'la' filled the room before it died away and was replaced by the flipping of musical sheets. He got up from the seat and settled the notes down nicely on the stand before settling back down, playing a few more chords while he was at it.

He then stopped in the midst of playing a famous Chopin piece, and stared at the casing he placed at the foot of the piano. Silence thickened in the atmosphere before a sigh escaped its cage. The white-haired teenager carefully unlocked the casing and stood before the sheets stand, reading the notes as if they were words from a novel.

At once, Hitsugaya brought the sky blue violin to his neck and readied the bow, as he closed his eyes and stroked the strings for the first time in months.


	2. A Fateful Encounter

_I would like to take this opportunity to thank everyone for being patient with this fic and for reviewing, alerts, etc. Arigatou gozaimasu. Dewa, from now on, I'll have to find time to update this fic as well seeing as I'm overly obsessed with La Corda at the moment and would like to update this fic while the obsession sticks. I would also like to add on a bit of a warning since this will not entirely be a parody, just the general idea is applied, but other than that, certain events will be drafted by me instead of using the fandom's events. Oh, and if you have any good ideas for themes of the selections, what pieces should be played, etc. you can just tell me in the review. I'm open to all suggestions, but I can't guarantee I'll use all. I've already decided on the theme for the first selection, but am still looking for some suitable pieces... -is ashamed-_

_I do not own Bleach, La Corda nor any of its affiliated characters, settings, whatevers._

* * *

**Winter Sonata 02**

**A Fateful Encounter**

* * *

Biting the lower of his lips, the flushed strawberry dashed straight for the restroom, leaving a confused Renji trailing behind him as fast as his legs could carry him for the sprint. As soon as he stepped onto the marble tiled floor, Ichigo slammed the door in his classmate's face and locked himself in a cubicle without realising that some of the other male students were eyeing his strange actions, from entering the toilet to locking the cubicle door to mumbling to himself. A few who were elected student leaders shook their heads disapprovingly; if he wanted to use the bathroom that badly, he didn't have to make such a scene. And if he really needed it so terribly that he slammed the door on another person's face - they could hear strings of swear words from the other side of the door - why didn't he even think about grabbing some of the toilet paper before dashing in? How disgusting was that.

In all actuality, poor Ichigo was resisting the urge to pluck a strand of his short, spikey orange hair and nibble on it. He hadn't anything else to distract him from his chain of thoughts - well it wasn't like there was anything resourceful in a **bathroom**, for crying out loud - and pulling his hair out was the first idea that popped in his mind. The Second Year then tugged on his school uniform, playing around with it until he felt his accelerating heart calm down and his body, not as steaming as earlier. He tried, with all his willpower, not to stare at the sore wrist where water droplets began to form, but it was all too tempting for one strawberry to bear.

_Actually, that felt...pretty nice. It's like having ice cooling a swollen wrist...it made me feel so warm even though it was freezing cold._

Blinking out of the thought, Ichigo shook his flustered head and ran his hands through his hair as quickly as possible. A rage of emotions flowed throughout his bloodstream, making him perspire profusely despite the fact that the fans in the boys' room were already turned on at full blast.

Unlocking the cubicle, he staggered towards the sink, splashing himself with water. Not a single male student was left. He checked his watch and panicked, fishing out his pocket comb and tidying up his hair as much as he could. Byakuya allowed no student with unacceptable attire into the classroom, especially when it was his class. And he knew the devil teacher's teaching method like the back of his hand; he would have a 'little' pop quiz thrice a week at the most unexpected points of his lessons, but most preferably when one or two students were chased out of the classroom with a valid reason so that they would not be able to sit for the quiz. It was his way of punishing the students and it has had been shown to be extremely effective with a handful of teachers in the General Education staff beginning to take on a similar style of teaching and punishing.

"Dammit, why is it that he has to teach the next class!?" Ichigo exclaimed, making more of a mess out of his hair than it already was.

_"Dammit, why is it that no one is able to hear my voice!?"_

Pausing in his actions, the orange-haired Gen. Ed student turned around, his eyes scanning the entire male's toilet. Shrugging it off as a figment of his imagination, he carried on with making himself look more presentable and turned, ready to set off for the Akuma Sensei's class when he stepped on a bar of soap and sent him flying out of the bathroom, stunning a red-faced Renji out of his sleep. Ichigo was lying on his face flat on the ground, his fingers twitching slightly in an annoyed fashion. Renji's first thought was to help his injured friend up, but when he saw something orange other than the spikes of Ichigo's hair sticking out from under the other's belly, he paled.

It wasn't exactly orange, per se. More of a tan yellow mixed with brown, and a little rough around the edges. A voice seemed to be coming out from it while its paw-like hand reached out as if for someone to help it out. A ball of saliva travelling down his throat, the redhead picked the thing up with a pinch and tossed it aside at the corner before helping the semi-conscious Ichigo up. In the next split second, he felt something bash against the back of his head and knock him down to the floor, this time with Ichigo stunned awake and gaping at the object which was responsible for causing the pair injuries.

"Whawhawha--what the hell are you!?" he pointed at the thing accusingly, veins popping out from every corner of his face.

However, instead of taking the finger to offense at heart, the unidentified object merely gave an amused smirk and a wiggle of its ear. _"You can see me? Ah, finally! Finally someone sees me, the great king of all of New York! But first..." _Running on all fours towards the fallen pair, the self-proclaimed king of New York poked Ichigo in the eye without any further hesitation. _"That's for being rude. Anyway, let me introduce myself! I am Kon, one of the guardians of this prestigious school. It's nice to meet you two idiots."_

"Who the hell are you calling an idiot!?" Renji exclaimed, shoving the other pissed party aside. Unknowingly, he had given Ichigo a one-way ticket to the rubbish in the dustbin where the temporarily blind strawberry spent his next few seconds cursing while his injured eye could not halt its twitching. "We aren't the ones looking like some pint-sized lion that can talk! And it wasn't me who was being rude, it was that other idiot there!" the red pineapple shouted back while pointing at the evidently irked Second Year whose face was covered in dirt.

Kon laughed to himself under his breath as best as he could, tickling a button he had on his stomach as a belly button. _"Yeah well, he's the guy who totally squished me anywa--wait, what am I doing? I have no time for this! In a nutshell,"_ he alternated glances between the two. _"...Um, I have to decide only on one, so it'll be this orange-haired idiot. Unless the other one already has a talent in the aspect of music, which I believe so but I don't have any time! Come see me in the practice rooms after school. I've got something for the both of you. Remember, the practice rooms after school!"_

"Oi, hold it!" Ichigo leapt towards the plush lion which began dashing for his life down the hallways, its back disappearing into the deepness of the path.

* * *

_'Good afternoon, teachers and students. I apologise for interrupting your after-school lunch break, but I have some excellent news to share with the entire school. As some of you may know, Karakura Academy is one of the schools which hosts its own concours once every few years. I am here to announce to everyone that we have finally decided on the students who will be participating in the concours. Now, let me introduce to you the names of the participants. First on the list...'_

* * *

'_Class 3-B, Hitsugaya Toushirou-kun._

_Also from class 3-B, Kusaka Soujirou-kun.'_

Carefully placing the bow on the correct position on the strings, the young violinist arranged his fingers and played the next note as slowly and patiently as possible. A beautiful tone was given off before it screeched to a halt when large emeralds tossed the violin a small glare. He felt his own heart accelerating slightly, but succeeded in calming himself down for the fourth time in the day, and resisted the urge to let out a huge sigh. He stroked the strings once more, this time with more strength and patience. Just as he was reaching the boundary of getting the right pitch and sound, a tingling sensation emanating from the tips of his index and middle fingers banned him from getting any better than he was at the moment, and the note screeched again.

Hitsugaya remained in that position for a split second before he decided to end his violin practice for the day. _What am I doing? I know it's not possible for me to play it anymore, so why do I even bother...? _He could find himself thinking up of no good answer to his own question as he placed the violin and its bow back into the case before closing it shut and leaving it alone. He sensed a small but easily detectable presence in the room, but ignored it and headed towards the piano. The white-haired Music student settled down at the piano, tapped the keys before playing the first piece which came to mind. The powerful, intense notes from the piece - Chopin's Revolutionary Etude - resonated within the room's walls. It was as if they had come to life, their very own existence taking up the entire room; it was as if they took flight and headed straight out of the locked door and attracted all students walking by the corridors to where Hitsugaya was located.

Rather unfortunately for them, an adolescent came running down the hallway, leaving the door to the practice rooms open. His silky, glistening deep, purple waves of hair danced in the air as he sped past some curious students heading towards one of the rooms, almost knocking them down when he squeezed through the small crowd and barged into the room without knocking. All high-pitched squeals and loud rounds of applause gave a tight smack on Hitsugaya's face and dragged him from his world back into reality. He gave the intruder a wary eye, landing his raised fingers onto the keys silently and willed for the crowd to disappear from his sight.

"What are you doing here, Kusaka?" he asked, not bothering to even stand up and greet the purple-haired teen in a more proper manner. "I've told you many times before. You are **not **to interrupt my practice no matter what the circumstances are or how good the reason is, so I would gladly appreciate it if you--"

"No no no, Toushirou! It's a big matter this time round! I-it's got to do with the concours!"

Scoffing slightly, Hitsugaya headed towards the door and closed it with a bang, causing some fangirls to run off to the bathroom with tears streaming down their rosy cheeks. It wasn't like the white-haired Third Year even cared; Kusaka could only wince at the other's cold action. "I don't think I should even waste my time guessing what you're going to say next, so just spit it out."

Inwardly heaving a sigh of relief, the eighteen-year-old student grabbed the younger by the shoulders and flashed his trademark smile. "They announced the candidates for the competition and we've both been chosen, Toushirou! Isn't that great? Um, if I remember correctly, there should be at least four others participating in the concours as well, from what Kuchiki-sensei told me." By the expression plastered on the other's slightly flushed face, Kusaka continued his excitement, "They're holding the briefing after school tomorrow, so we should be able to meet all of the others. Ne, you don't think that just because we're the only Third Years involved, either of us has to win this thing? It'd be a lot of pressure..."

"I don't think it's necessary for either of us to win," Hitsugaya commented dryly, gluing his eyes to the floor. "However, I highly doubt we'll lose. After all, the First Years have yet to be accustomed to the school and the Second Years probably don't even have the experience. The difference in skill level is just far too great for us to lose to them."

Kusaka blinked. "You really think so? I've been telling myself the same thing, but I rarely take part in such competitions myself. You're different, Toushirou. You've been in all sorts of concours and you made it to the top three positions for every single one you participated in. Whenever a random announcement for an upcoming music competition pops up, you leap out of your seat and make it to the top three. Me, I can't even qualify to get into competitions in the first place."

"That's because you're too lazy to fill out the application forms."

"Ahh~ that's so mean, Toushirou."

"Hmph."

* * *

_'Class 2-A, Ishida Uryuu-kun.'_

Pacing about in the classroom, his hands gripping onto his faithful violin tightly, the bespectacled Music Faculty student began polishing the sleek and slender wooden body, and only returned to his seat when he deemed it as the 'perfect look' for his violin. If he had a choice - which he didn't, fortunately - he would've had scampered off to steal a glance at the silky threads and brand new sewing machines on sale at the shopping mall before purchasing the best of every sewing equipment and fixing up a miniature frilly dress fit for a ballerina for his precious violin, but as one would expect, his parents hired a private investigator to make certain he stepped no further than one foot away from shops with tailoring services. The sewing teen's violin instructor would fry him alive when he found out anyway. Besides, it wasn't like Ishida could even play the violin with the dress in the way.

Giving a mental sigh, he laid his instrument to rest in its case and tucked the small, white bottle of polish with the polishing cloth into a side pocket in his school bag. He figured he and his treasured violin would be better off in their own world of resounding music which took leaps into the sky once the bespectacled adolescent reached home, seeing as all of the school music rooms were long booked before he could think about reserving a room during morning break. Thankfully, nobody was left in the classroom to witness the navy blue eyebrow twitch in slight annoyance while Ishida was busy preparing to go on his way home; did the P.A. system just...ring?

Well, no time to stay behind and listen to it, knowing how notoriously long the principal's speeches were. His grandfather would probably get worried sick if he were to turn up at the doorstep hours past school ending, and it would certainly do him no good should his practice hours be affected by some trivial announcement which would, in his opinion, turn into a thirty-minute long speech at its least and drag on to an hour-long one at its worst.

Slinging his school bag over his shoulder, Ishida grabbed onto the handle of his violin case and proceeded to walk his way out of the classroom. He had no particular extra-curricular activities on that day, and he knew for a fact that not many students did. Thus seeing clusters of schoolmates and members of the otaku club gathering along the hallways and around the school compounds aroused his curiosity despite his initial suspicions. Most girls, especially the infamous otaku-tachi, were swooning over a poorly made plush of himself while waving banners with his full name printed in kanji and hiragana of '_ganbatte kudasai_' straight in his face. The raven-haired teen paused, and stared for a moment, before he fished out a piece of cloth, removed his spectacles and began wiping the glass in frenzy.

At the instant he put them back on, a pair of flushing girls appeared with pens and books in tow, their eyes sparkling with stars of hope as they handed him the stationery, giggling mostly to themselves. If the Music Faculty Second Year student had to be any more blunt than he already was, he would've had told them straight to get lost and stop bothering him as well as the other poor students suffering from unwanted popularity, but being a nice school councillor, he kept his opinions to himself. Brows furrowing, Ishida looked at the pair. "May I ask what in the Karakura is going on here?"

"Kyaah~ Ishida-sama talked to me!!" the cherry pink-haired twins chorused, making a twirl and on the brink of falling off the steps. "It's nothing much, really! We just heard from the principal's announcement that Hitsugaya-sama, Kusaka-sama and Ishida-sama are going to be participating in the concours! In our excitement, we, as presidents of the otaku club, ordered all manpower to produce all these banners, toys and homemade cookies for free distribution!! Since Hitsugaya-sama and Kusaka-sama are busy practising in the music rooms, we don't want to disrupt them, but Ishida-sama hasn't left school yet, so we all came here to give you our support!! Please do your best in the concours, Ishida-sama!"

_...The concours...huh._

Ishida, repositioning his slipping spectacles, sighed softly, his nose itching for a tight pinch to ease the migraine heading on its way. "While I do want to thank you for your efforts, I'm afraid I'll have to inform you that they are wasted. After all, I am merely a participant in the concours. I have yet to win it, so there is no need for all of this." Walking past large groups consisting of students lowering their flags and banners, the violinist dismissed the girls with a simple wave of his hand and was set with the resolve to ignore all the pairs of blinking eyes staring straight at his leaving shadow.

Alas, he calmly came to a halt, surprising majority of the flushing ladies of Karakura Academy's infamous otaku club. The flash from his spectacles was all the reason everyone needed to take a few steps back and, in more serious cases, huddle in a random deserted corner and tremble like a leaf in a thunderstorm. Sighing once more in defeat, Ishida muttered a forced "Please do not attempt this again... However, thank you" and departed for home once again - however much he dreaded walking down the path back there.

* * *

_'Class 1-A, Kira Izuru-kun.'_

"Hah? Did y'all hear that? Some newbie got chosen to participate in the concours but not us?"

With a tense cringe, the blond First Year squeezed his way through the bunches of students gathering and clogging up the hallway, bringing his books close to his chest as tightly as he could. Biting his lower lip as he tried his best to ignore all glares and ferocious glances tossed at him, the pitiful teen attempted driving his way through the crowd whilst making certain of the fact that his instrument casing was not scratched or had a single thread of fabric sticking out from a random corner; with part of his hair parted to the left side of his face, it was, admittedly, quite a feat for him to be able to notice the many threads poking out at the most inappropriate of places.

"Yeah, I heard it, all right. A First Year for the competition? Puh-lease, he will never be able to make it."

Undoubtedly, Kira grunted and rubbed his right eye as soon as he tripped his way out of the suffocating crowd. Scampering behind a door nearby, he leaned against the wall, brows furrowing as he squinted and picked the threads out one by one. Closing his left eye, the blonde stared at the case's edges for a hard, long time before he could finally pick out the final eyesore known as fabric - the very same kind as the school uniform of a Music Department student evidently, since the thread was a deep, yet crystal light, shade of grey. _These people, they know no manners, _the shy adolescent thought in a fury, quickly opening the casing and double-checking his oboe's condition.

"Are they insane or are they insane? No First Year's gonna take the glory from us!"

Grateful that his instrument had its casing to depend on, he smiled softly and placed the glistening woodwind back into its place gently. Giving it a brush of his fingers as a form of temporary farewell, Kira closed the lid, locking it with a click. At the very least, the blond oboist was glad that he had decided to leave the classroom earlier than usual, otherwise he would've had to squeeze through yet another group congesting the entrances of the classroom just to pick up his bag and leave. But then again, had he gone back to class, there would be the need for him to get out, after all. If he were to be caught at that kind of situation and had the time (and guts), he would jump from the window and scurry back home but there would be no such thing until his friends were to come and save the day for him - as per usual.

As much as he detested listening to the likes of the so-called seniors of the school blurt out harsh words directed at the entire First Year cohort, with him being the main target most of the time, Kira had no other choice but to let them say what they wanted to. He, as a new student to the school, had no right to make his seniors shut up, and neither did he have the willpower to be able to do so anyway.

He always had the problem of making his feelings expressed so openly, so fiercely. Those flares of emotions burning at his chest and spurring him on dosed out no quicker than he could say 'gomenasai' to the next person he saw; the poor junior always broke his personal record of apologising or stammering when he first lays his gloomy cloud-grey eyes on someone older or wiser than he. Well, supposedly wiser. Not that it made that much of a difference anyway.

"Kira-kun?"

Whether he leapt behind the bucket and instantly wielded the mop as if it were his weapon due to instinct or purely for the perk of it was debatable, but nevertheless did Kira Izuru brand the random floor cleaner as his trustworthy sword while hiding his oboe case behind his back, ready to defend his darling instrument from any defaming comments the both of them could expect from the seniors. Drops of soapy water fell to the marble tiles, bubbles popping upon contact and the water forming miniature rivers. As soon as he heard the slow and eerie creak from the door, the blonde used the mop and swiped across the air while accidentally knocking over the ruby red bucket in the process. All water which remained in the pail splashed across the floor like red paint against the walls of debtors, the air in the room filled with the smell of floor-wash which brought crimson shades upon Kira's pale white nose.

The footsteps approached but they were soon gone from all hearing ranges when high-pitched screams that pierced the air replaced them. Dodging the shadowy figure tossing itself at him, the First Year oboist tripped over a random empty bottle of what was supposedly paint and fell on his back - well, to be more precise, he fell on his instrument casing. And to make matters worse, it turned out that--

"Kira-kun!! What in the world are you doing!? You, you scared me!"

"Hi...Hinamori-kun!?"

--the one whom he caused to have a swollen face and a bleeding nose just so happened to be a friend he knew from elementary school. And...he could've had just sworn to himself that he heard something crack upon the impact of both of their falls. A really, really loud and bony crack.

* * *

_'Class 1-B, Kuna Mashiro-san.'_

Twirling about and skipping on her way towards the limousine awaiting her at the school entrance, the one named Mashiro scurried about as if high on adrenaline, almost on the brink of leaving her bunch of schoolmates behind who took their own sweet time chatting and stepping on the path, trailing behind her like a string of snails. The lime green-haired girl, who was supposedly sixteen years of age, tugged at her orange scarf around her neck, an accessory which wasn't to be worn especially at that time of the year. However so, the hyper teen enjoyed whatever comfort and warmth it provided, despite being warned against wearing it by the teachers at the school.

She spun around and waved at her slow-poke friends with all her eagerness before skipping back on her path again. A gentle breeze brushed against their frames, cooling the sweat off the group of five trailing behind her with the pace of tortoises. Scratching the back of his head, the seventeen-year-old blonde, whose hair framed his angular face at chin length, muttered a disapproving 'tsk' and plucked a toothpick out of nowhere, picking his glistening teeth and keeping his free hand in his pocket. It wasn't that he disliked Mashiro, oh no; it was just that he could only dare to ask for all of her sugar sucked out of her so that everyone wouldn't have had the need to always catch up with her. Perhaps it was merely misfortune which brought all seven, or eight, of them together as friends. Childhood friends, no less.

With Shinji being the exception, the snails were perspiring profusely, beads of sweat furiously trickling down their flushed cheeks as their faces contorted with all agony and exasperation sweeping over their bodies. This was probably the reason behind the frowning blonde's recent workouts at the school gym; he wasn't about to be part of the turtles again, seeing that someone like Mashiro - especially that Mashiro - was part of their so-called gang.

It certainly didn't help at all that they were all from the Music Faculty. They might not seem like it, but the large circle of friends who were conveniently stuck with each other in one way or another were allegedly students studying at Karakura Academy's Music Department. More importantly, Shinji mused to himself for no reason whatsoever, each of them majored in a different instrument, and defying all laws of fate the chains provided, they were members of the school band. It wouldn't be long before Hirako was to consider the conductor's suggestion for them to sign up for the outstanding youth band, or orchestra if it was more elaborate, and begin their early career as performing musicians. Just thinking about it wanted to make the blond adolescent flick his tongue and shake his head; it was impossible, after all. In the first place, neither of them had the desire to split away and suddenly rise in fame. Besides, they weren't "cut out for it", as their teachers normally said to them.

The only way to prove everyone wrong was to let someone volunteer to join and win some random music competition, but Shinji wasn't willing to do it, and from the looks of it, neither was anyone. Although he couldn't, and wouldn't, deny the fact that a few amongst them really stood out, no one in that stuffy school was going to let them anyway. Shinji loosened his tie; Mashiro tightened her scarf. _If anyone was to join some crap like 'dat, it'd have to be..._

"BAKA SHINJI!"

Turning around instinctively, the blonde scratched the back of his head again, spitting out the toothpick that was hanging at the corner of his lips. What greeted him - other than the pack of slow-pokes dillydallying around - was a blond young lady with freckles and a fang-like tooth sticking out from the upper left corner of her mouth, her hair tied back in two ponytails. She was donned in a uniform much different from their ash grey outer uniforms covering the white blouse underneath; the girl, who seemed rather short for her age, was in a snow white blouse and black skirt, with a navy blue ribbon dangling from the collars. Aside from her flashing cat-like eyes of gold, Shinji could tell by the incoherent grumbling and the folding of her arms that she was, as usual, in a fiery mood.

It was hard to ignore such a glare from the tigress, but the Second Year Music student did so by turning away and continuing his walk. He elusively dodged the shoe tossed straight at him, eyeing the muddy footwear bounce off the ground and land on a pile of wet leaves. Mentally sighing, he turned back, bending down to face the younger of the pair. "What is it ya want 'dis time, Hiyori?"

Knowing her, she'd say that she would want to smack the crap right out of Shinji's hard-to-crack skull with any available footwear she had with her. He did have it tough, having the most ferocious of the group as his neighbour and evidently younger maternal cousin, and being so, she could hit his head with her slipper anytime she wanted, be it three times an hour or more. It was a miracle in itself that Hirako was still able to stand and not pass out from massive blood loss whenever his nosebleeds began or when his forehead started swelling and leaking crimson fluid. He always did wonder if his parents wanted him dead so much, or if they had any prior knowledge to the Sarugaki family's violently abusive behaviours whatsoever.

"It's not what **I** want, Shinji! It's what that idiot Mashiro wants!"

"Oi oi, even though you're not in the same school, she's still your senior, you know," the raven-haired, bespectacled teen mumbled, keeping her eyes glued to the magazine in her hands as she brushed her hair from her forehead. "Even if she doesn't act like one..."

"That's beside 'da point! Oi, Mashiro, you baka!" Hiyori screamed at the top of her voice, waving a piece of crumpled paper in her fist while using her free hand to cup her mouth. "A teacher from yer school came over to mine and asked me to pass this to ya!!"

However, instead of replying to the tigress's yells and busted fists in the air while struggling to kick her way out of everyone's grip on her, Mashiro made a little twirl as she greeted the most trusted servant of her household. Hachigen bowed, offering a slice of cake which he bought whilst driving the limo to the school, and the Kuna family's daughter joyfully picked it up and savoured the puffiness, licking the whipped cream and munching on the strawberry with pleasure. Putting up her index and middle fingers in a V shape, she thanked her chauffeur and dove into the car.

It was at this very moment Hiyori was let go and given indirect permission to give chase to the car, still pumping her fist in the air as she did so. "Are ya even LISTENING to me!?!?"

* * *

Lazily biting onto the sliced strawberry he brought from home, the orange-haired adolescent rubbed the corner of his ear and slightly winced when a slap came in his way and the medicated ointment came into contact with the red skin. Grunting, he carried on chewing, and poked his fork into another piece, nibbling at the edge with a slight pout and a forced cringe when his ear kept on stinging. Of course Ichigo wouldn't admit it, but it was his fault for turning up for Byakuya's class late - oh of all classes, it just had to be the pissed off prissy's - and Renji, the bastard that the latecomer put in his I Want to Kill list, shifted the blame to the orange spike head for spending so much time in the bathroom. Being the compassionate man the akuma sensei was, he let the pineapple off the hook and made Ichigo stand at the back of class for the rest of the day.

As to why his ear was sore, let's just say he could take all day cursing at Rukia.

If there was one thing the berry couldn't fathom, it was why the sweet, dainty and delicate princess like Rukia could turn out to be as evil and menacing as her so-called dear onii-sama. Perhaps it was the Kuchiki curse - Renji would probably yell straight in his swollen ear that it was definitely the Kuchiki curse - which ran in their blood and activated only when troublemakers like him turn up and cause things to go absolutely haywire. Then again, it wasn't that serious. He was simply late for class by five minutes, after all. There really wasn't any need to punish him so terribly (at least that's what **he **thinks).

_'...And it seems that due to unforeseen circumstances, we have another participant.'_

Wincing again, Ichigo poked the frozen berry and bit on it for as long as his breath could hold. That wasn't without its own consequences, though; when the slice of strawberry proved to be too fragile and ultimately snapped into two, the living, breathing strawberry human accidentally bit his tongue and yelped as he leapt into the air, dashing towards the boys' room yet again to wash the blood off his lips. Perhaps it had been a bad idea to let Inoue take care of the ear for him right from the start.

"Anyway, you know about the damn concours..."

Mid-washing his mouth, a startled Ichigo turned off the tap and went into an empty cubicle, closing and locking the door behind him. If he were to let that man know that he was around, he was sure to be in for a literally bloody pounding. Heavy elephant footsteps echoed in the toilet as they stopped before the basin, water flowing from the tap like a smooth stream. The same voice continued, "You heard the old fart, didn't you? Suddenly adding in someone from my dept..."

"You understand the situation more than anyone else does, Zaraki-sensei." Ichigo choked on his own saliva; what on earth was Byakuya doing with the most aggressive and cruel teacher in the entire school?

"Heh, you should be the one who understands it more, Kuchiki. You're a teacher in both freakin' depts, for hell's sake. You'd think that bastard is getting on his years, eh? Looks like he's finally starting to get senile dementia... No one in the General Ed. faculty is ever going to take part in some lame music competition. I won't let a single brat take up something as useless as music and go compete. What we need is the guts! That's why our department has all of the exciting fighting clubs while the Music Faculty is full of those twitty, disgusting singing groups or marching idiots."

"...I would appreciate it if you don't insult music like that, Zaraki-sensei, otherwise--"

"Otherwise what? You'll tell on me? Heh, is the icy cold Kuchiki Byakuya actually threatening me with something so childish?" Licking his lips hungrily as he splashed the water on his face, the scarred man picked up the eye patch from the basin and put it back on, smirking sadistically. "I'm tellin' ya, Kuchiki, you'll someday find that brawling is so much more stimulative and useful than something like playing the piano or whatever the people on the other side do. I pity 'em, really."

Silently, Byakuya stepped out of the restroom, leaving the crazed man laughing at nobody's expense. If anything was more pitiful than having to enjoy the lessons the world of music had in store for all of the people in the world, it would be having that very fellow in charge of the General Education Faculty. One could always imagine how pupils like Kurosaki Ichigo and Abarai Renji turned into such ruffians being in that department of the school.

_'Additional concours participant, from class 2-2...'_

The small group of three sitting around at the table halted in their movements, looking up at the speakers hanging from the corner of the canteen. Following that, all students who were still hanging around at the school compounds listened attentively to the announcement, whether they were in their study groups at the library or playing rough at the fields, each and every one of them was interested in knowing who the lucky and talented chap was. In particular, a shifty red pineapple had begun wiping the beads of sweat from his forehead, unable to forget what the strange plush lion informed him and Ichigo earlier on in the day.

Wherever the bastard was, he was probably listening to the announcement as well, Renji figured. Either that or he conveniently forgot all about what had happened in the morning break, but even for a thick-headed idiot like Ichigo, it was hard to just let it slip from his mind. To his expectations, the strawberry did not forget; in fact, his heart was accelerating at such a rate that he reckoned he was about to drop dead or pass out anytime if the name he dreaded to hear was to come out from the P.A. speakers. He crept down the stairs, biting his lower lip as he did so, and tip-toed back to where his friends were seated at. Somehow...

_'Kurosaki Ichigo-kun.'_

"Wh-what? He said 'Kurosaki'..."

"Eh? Kurosaki? Are you sure you heard it correctly?"

"What are you talking about? You heard it too, didn't you?"

"Ah!? Kurosaki-kun is--!?"

_...he had an **extremely bad feeling** that it was him._

* * *

_Sorry, lots of people are ooc...sniffle. And I spent way too much time on this!! -panics- Anyway, drop a comment on how you think of it so far. Are the participants ok? No violent objections? Eeto, as to how I chose Mashiro...I decided that I had taken far too long to choose a female participant and after seeking a second opinion, I decided to choose Mashiro. So...is this chapter ok? I also fixed some details in the first chapter but not really something you should know. Yup, that's all. Next chapter will mostly be about preparations for the first selection. The theme shall be-- _

_-gets gagged and dragged off by Kusaka-_


	3. King of New York, King of Guardians

_I'm back. I may never update in months again, though. Yes, that is all I wish to say. Oh yeah...if you're still reading my fics, especially Winter Sonata, I'm really grateful to you for being so patient with me. Though I would appreciate some reviews here and there, it's comforting enough that someone out there is still willing to put their patience to the test. -smiles dryly- But really, thank you for all of your support. I would never wish to update if not for readers' silent support. Another small note: Kon's story has lack of external description because I want his explanation to be smooth and flowing, and randomly inserting Ichigo's and Renji's expressions would disrupt it, so please imagine their expressions as you read it. Thank you for your kind attention. -smiles-_

* * *

**Winter Sonata 03**

**King of New York, King of Guardians**

* * *

"I love you. Seriously, I do."

"Shut up, Ichigo. You think I'm in any better situation than you are?"

Rolling his eyes, the orange-haired student's face crumpled to a deep frown. His red-haired partner gave him a disapproving look - glare was more like it - and clicked the tip of his tongue against his teeth in a hiss, but did nothing else except continue dragging Ichigo down the corridor. Female students were staring with the usual spark in their curious eyes, while male students simply could not give much of a damn. It didn't help when Kyouraku-sensei happened to bump into them and cheered them on. Had Ichigo been able to tug himself free from Renji's infamous tight grip, he would have loosened his shoe and tossed it at the perverted teacher.

"Well, it's as obvious as hell that you are!" the strawberry head retorted, a vein pulsing against his temple. "At least you didn't get randomly picked by some lion doll _freak_ to participate in some...some concours thing, yelled at by Rukia, flabbergasted at all the damn questions the girls were throwing at me--"

"Oh? So you _do_ know the meaning of the word 'flabbergasted'."

"...What's that supposed to mean!?"

Renji raised an eyebrow mockingly. "Nothin' much." Wiping his own smirk off his face, Renji began to murmur to Ichigo whilst ignoring the questioning glances from the surrounding students, "And besides, if you think that's bad, it's gonna be bloody war when you meet the other contestants. Just keep your damn mouth shut before you attract any more unwanted attention, will ya? As if your hair isn't already bad enough."

Grumpily, Ichigo left matters to themselves, muttering something about tattoos and gang fights under his breath. He tolerated with the impending embarrassment and utter disgrace, mentally telling himself that the situation at hand was merely pushing his patience to its limits, and surprisingly felt a lot better than earlier. It still, however, did not change the atmosphere for the better.

Originally, he knew, he was never meant to be a part of the school concours. It was meant for the students in the Music Faculty, probably a game of some sort to see who the cream of the crop is, according to his understanding. It is a normal occasion, he knew from past experience, and students from both the General Education Faculty as well as the Music Faculty are welcome to share in the joy and appreciation for music. And, he knew from past experience, General Education students are never chosen to take part because they are as they are: General Education students. Or, so he should say, _were_.

Looking at the Music students' faces, the orange-head could tell at one glance that they were not happy with the announcement. It did not sit well with him, knowing that very fact yet having a tattooed and hot-tempered classmate drag him down the perfectly cushioned grounds that belonged to the practice block of the Music department and receiving the death glares from said department's students.

The bad blood between both departments was common knowledge; it all just boiled down to who would dare cross the line.

"We're here."

Cue for orange eyebrow to raise. "And how'd you know?"

Renji turned, a dull look spreading across his features. "I see 'im."

* * *

The translucent head nodded, humming as if in deep understanding of the matter. It had its arms folded, leg resting upon another, and sat on top of the piano. _"I see. Because you became a participant, everyone in school is starting to hate you?"_

"Damn right you are," Ichigo muttered through clenched teeth. "So you'd better fix all of this and make sure I'm taken off the stupid--"

_"Frankly, I don't see how I'm concerned."_

"Hey, don't you dare mess with me here! Look, I don't care what or how you do it, I don't want to be part of this concours thing."

Beady eyes glistened in their direction. _"Sorry, can't help you there. I may be the king and all, but once you're in, you're in, buckaroo."_

Renji grabbed onto Ichigo's tense shoulders in an attempt to pull him away from the miniscule toy now dancing atop the piano, restraining and reminding his classmate not to get too worked up about it. Before Ichigo could retort, the red-haired General Education student made a huge stomp against the cushioned floor and swung his arm, grasping Kon in a death grip. The fairy-like spirit literally gave a squeak, tears almost streaming down its seemingly sewed face.

"You'd better explain."

Ichigo nearly flinched at how forceful those words were, realisation dawning upon him that he had never seen his childhood friend this serious in all of their years of friendship. The orange-haired seventeen-year-old could not find anything to say, even when he was on the brink of pitying the creature struggling in Renji's hold, and stared blankly at the two in front of him.

A brown finger-like claw on the lion doll's paw pointed at the burly fingers around his upper body, trembling, and the redhead let go as soon as he caught sight of the tiny action. Both General Education students allowed some time for the spirit to rest, getting themselves more comfortable and relaxed in the room as they tried to, though the atmosphere from earlier on did not lift in the least. It only dampened when Kon still did not seem to recover after wasting ten minutes of their time.

During that short, but almost like an eternal, time period, Ichigo had taken a good, long look at the air-conditioned room. He had to admit, silently and mentally, that the facilities were not half-bad in the Music Faculty. Due to the department feud, neither General Education nor Music students stepped into either grounds for any notable reason whatsoever. Being a Second Year, he had never taken notice of the students from the Music department ever coming to the General Education Faculty, though he would seldom see the distinct grey uniform blur past his eyes and disappearing into the neighbouring block like ashes. Making a turn at the corridor, he would come face-to-face with his fellow General Education student holding onto his hockey stick, yelling at no one in particular.

Naturally, the orange-head stayed away from the department situated next door. All that separated the two was a clean stone bridge, protected by metal railings by the edges, but he never was a witness to anyone making use of that bridge other than the teachers. Taking a leaf from his senior's book, Ichigo ignored the existence of such a bridge, and denied the existence of the Music Faculty. Senpai had warned him, Renji, Rukia, and everyone else when they entered the school as First Years: never venture into the Music Faculty. And so they did not. Curiosity hadn't bothered them, either. That was how they passed the first year in Karakura Academy.

However, thinking back, this would never explain why he would see a Music student in the General Education department earlier that day. In fact it was the first time he had even spoken to one, let alone express his desire to know one.

_"Are you done thinking."_

It hadn't even been a question, but Ichigo snapped out of his trail of thoughts and stared at the lion-like spirit. "Oh, so you're finally done with whatever crap you were doing? That's just great, because I have questions and you have the answers to them, and if you piss me off, I'm talking to the principal."

_"No need to take it that far, Ichigo."_

"No first-name basis, either, freak. We ain't that close."

_"Who are you calling 'freak'!?" _Tears burst from the raven black beads Kon had for eyes. After taking yet another brief moment to calm down, it heaved a deep sigh and rested its arms - if those were what defined arms - against the cover of the upright piano. _"Okay... Kurosaki Ichigo, then. And, uh, Aburai Kenji--"_

"It's Abarai Renji!" exclaimed the frustrated redhead as Ichigo placed a hand on his shoulder.

_"Whatever, the king is always right. Anyway, like I said, you are not going to back out of the concours now, Kurosaki Ichigo, and before you try killing the great and holy me, I order you to calm down and let the king tell you exactly why I gave you this glorious task."_

"...More like tedious..."

_"If the king says it, it is glorious, and I am the king, so shut it. Aaaahh...it's always a pain in the ass to recite the same ol' tale, so be grateful to me for saying it again, because I am not explaining it twice! Now, to begin, let it be known to you that I am Kon, short for King of New York, and--"_

"Isn't that Kony?"

Half an hour was wasted trying to get Renji to stop laughing and Kon to stop fuming. Ichigo just looked confused while cleaning up the mess he indirectly made.

* * *

_"It was a fine, sunny day, many years before you peasants were in diapers. It wasn't so fine for me, for I lost my precious magic the night before. You see, though I am all-powerful and highly respected, I am just like the other musical spirits. I cannot restore my own magic if I am not within a musical haven. Ahh, my servants and beautiful maidens must have been so lucky to be able to survive that time. I, however, was degraded to a being lying on the lowly ground, waiting...waiting for the merciful and gorgeous angels to take me away._

_It was at that seemingly hopeless time when a human noticed me. He took me to his awful, earthly home, which was not half-bad, if I do admit myself, but it's not worth mentioning compared to my lovely castle. He cared for me like a servant should his king and during the time I was in his care, he told me his wish to build a school where he would be able to spread the joy of music. Of course, I listened to his request like a patient, well-respected king should, and when I recovered, I gave my kingly promise that I would help him construct his dream school. It is the school you two brats are studying at right now._

_Since I provided as much aid as I could to construct this school, a statue of me has been built near the school gate to commemorate my great contribution, as expected. After that human passed the torch down, I decided that I should not let my efforts go down the drain and take care of the school as he kindly requested me to. Being the benevolent king I am, I've lived to that promise till this very day. As the years passed, my servants and maids came to look for me and together we became the guardians of this school._

_Now, the concours the present principal mentioned about is the school concours held once every few years. There was this agreement I made with that human back then, that if his school became a success, he would have to hold a school concours to remind students to develop a true appreciation for music and that I, being the king, would be responsible for picking the participants. See, I have unrivalled magic, and only humans on the same wavelength as music spirits like me are able to see us, so it's commendable if someone can even catch an outline of me. Because I'm King. Of New York. So! It's only natural that humans who can see me are those humans who have true musical talent and affinity, and it's only natural that these humans become participants for the concours. The human agreed. The time of the concours is approaching again, so I came out for my grand entrance to search for participants as I have done so with dignity and grace in the past years, and here we are."_

* * *

Silence engulfed the room the moment Kon finished reciting his story.

It took his clawed foot's tapping against the piano keys - now exposed to the cooled air after Kon lifted the cover - in order to break the silence.

"...Are you serious?"

_"Of course I'm serious!" _The exasperation in the lion's face caused Renji to twitch. _"What, you thought I would stoop so low and joke about this?"_

Ichigo ran his hand through his short, bright orange hair and scratched his head. "That sounded so much like an old fairy tale! And anyway! If those who can see you late become the concours participants, then why isn't Renji one of them!? Uh, not that I think he should, though, since him not being one is...weird." He added the last sentence after catching a glimpse of a glare tossed at him.

Kon, too, scratched his head and clawed behind his small, pointy ear. _"Your picky principal doesn't want too many students from the General Education Faculty to join the concours unless it's absolutely necessary, so he said." _He crossed his arms and stomped his foot. _"He told me that there may be many more students in the General Education Faculty with the so-called potential to see me, and that if I enter both of you at the same time, it'll cause this huge uproar amongst both departments - which is totally none of my business - and the Music Faculty will look down on the General Education Faculty even more than before, so he said. If that happens, no one in the General Education Faculty will even dare admit they learn music, so he said. And he doesn't want that to happen, so he said. So we'll just have to wait and see how this plays out, so he said. Annoying bastard."_

Silence engulfed the room once more.

As if it was unsettling to the 'king', he closed the lid to the piano and raised a paw. _"At any rate, it's impossible for you to back out now, Kurosaki Ichigo. The principal will not hear of it, and neither will I."_

"What the hell!? I don't know anything about music!" Ichigo yelled at the top of his voice.

Renji, grateful that the room was supposedly soundproof since no one outside was looking in their direction, raised his hand. "I can vouch for that."

_"Even if you don't know anything about music, it's perfectly fine. There is no problem I, King of New York, can never fix." _Kon rested his head against his paws, kicking his legs. _"So tell me, what instrument do you prefer? I would recommend the violin, but for someone of your build, you would insult the violin if you play it. There are other choices, though." _Snapping his finger-like claws, an instrument case appeared out of thin air. The Second Years yelped and leapt backwards before falling on top of each other, staring blankly at the black casing.

_"Viola?"_

Snap. Another black case, albeit smaller and seemingly more compact.

_"Flute?"_

Snap. Yet another black case.

_"Trumpet?"_

Snap. Kon seemed to have a fetish for black.

_"Cello?"_

Ichigo tensed.

_"The cello, then? Wait, don't answer. I say the cello, so it shall be the cello!"_

Pointing in the orange-haired student's direction, the huge, cello case followed the claw and flew in a one-way path. It floated right before the hazelnut brown eyes, which widened at the sight of the case opening itself, revealing its contents to its future user. A cello rested on the fine, scarlet fabric, the bow resting on the opposite side. Both floated out of the case easily, springing to life, and stood straight before Ichigo, almost as if they were beckoning the human before them to stroke the strings on the cello that appeared from absolutely nowhere.

He stole a glance at his red-haired classmate, who shrugged in amazement, and then at the excited lion plush toy which still pointed at the cello. Heaving a sigh, he shrugged back and accepted the stringed instrument, holding onto it as gently as possible. Without a single word, Ichigo sat on the piano bench and began tuning the cello so naturally and professionally that Renji was caught by further surprise but said nothing, maintaining the unsettling silence. The Second Year tucked the cello comfortable between his legs, licking the salty beads of sweat trickling down his cheeks, and held the bow by the strings.

The silence was shattered by the wondrous melody being strung.

* * *

Stopping in his tracks, a student of the Music Faculty turned in the direction of the practice rooms.

The violet-haired adolescent continued staring into the empty space, eyebrows knitted tightly together as if in deep thought. His classmates who were around waved at him, only to receive no response, and simply shrugged it off before walking away from the practice rooms. The Third Year's frown grew sterner as he pushed the frame of his spectacles, the glass reflecting the lights lighting the path.

At the moment, the bespectacled Music student wasn't fairly certain if it had been a gut feeling or something else altogether, but he was almost suspicious of a particular room near the door. He resisted the urge to disturb whoever had been practising, but nevertheless he found it necessary to inform the occupant that his playing was more than simply bad - it was worth commending, had the listener been completely clueless about how Bach's cello solos are _supposed_ to sound like.

Being short of better words, Kusaka, removing his spectacles, shook his head and walked away. If Toushirou were here, he mused to himself, he would wield even harsher words.

* * *

The blond First Year spent the rest of the day in the nurse's office, where he laid on his belly and prepared himself for continuous rounds of massaging medicated cream on his back. Each round brought intense, searing pain, and forced him to grit his teeth and clench the pillow he was hugging. The nurse, with her comforting words and warm smiles, did help ease her patient's tension, but it later only proved to horrify him when her smile widened with every scream that ripped from his lips. She would kindly interrupt him when he asked after the condition of his oboe, which was perfectly fine save for a few scratches - to this the shivering First Year Music student literally went dead pale - and push his head down whenever he attempted to make a turn to look at his oboe case lying comfortably against the wall.

The raven-haired nurse continued smiling as she rubbed with great force.

Hinamori could only wince at Kira's next shriek, which went escaped from his restraint anyway.

* * *

When the pair left school, it was far past evening. Rukia, they presumed, had already left with her dear big brother once he was done with work, while Inoue deliberately stayed behind to wait for them. Unfortunately, her wasted time was in vain, for once she caught sight of Ichigo and Renji, she noticed the huge casing in her classmate's hand. Her other classmate offered to walk home with her; it was along the way anyway, and while it was normally Sado who walked home with her he was ill that day, so Renji had been entrusted with the responsibility of seeing a lonely, defenceless girl home. Said lonely, defenceless girl gave her orange-haired classmate one final glance before nodding to Renji's offer, and their backs melted into the sunset, down the path.

Cello in tow, Ichigo kept a frown plastered on his face as he trudged his way home, thinking of how to explain the mysterious cello to his family. However, he dismissed the thought as quickly as it formed in his already cloudy mind. His father would definitely ignore the presence of the instrument, knowing that his father was always busy groping a poster of his mother in a secluded corner in the shop. Karin might shoot him a question or two, but leave the rest to Yuzu who would pester him till he retreated to his room. Yes, Ichigo understood his family like the back of his hand.

He still could not help but sigh. Not only was he powerless to get himself out of a sticky situation, he needed to be mentally prepared for expected insults and arrogance from the other participants, who were all from the Music Faculty. Being a student in a normal, non musically-inclined department of the school, Ichigo had always found the students who _were_ musically-inclined to be teasing, stuck up brats coming from rich families. After all, entrance fees into the Music Faculty were almost triple that of the General Education Faculty, which was already expensive enough as Karakura Academy was a private institution, and additional expenses included personal coaches, instruments, and other expensive stuff about music. While he had never come across an offensively proud Music student, he hadn't come across a surprisingly humble one, either.

The orange-haired Second Year still could not get his meeting with that Toushirou guy out of his mind, especially when he was thinking about the Music department. The mere thought of it brought his mind to that little meeting by the corridor near the toilet - definitely not an appropriate memory, but Ichigo couldn't help himself - and, it made him begin to wonder if the white-haired kid was just as arrogant as he thought.

A mental debate took place, amidst his foggy chain of thoughts and memories about everything that crashed into his face that one day, and Ichigo had no choice but to come to a conclusion that Toushirou was probably just like all other students from the Music Faculty. No humble Music student would come up to your face and grip your wrist so tight the area went cold and pale, after all.

Just as he came to that conclusion which was he bound to regret doing, his father's foot met his nose.

* * *

Hitsugaya sneezed.

"Obou-sama, are you alright!?"

"Please, oboucchama, put on a jacket! It's cold tonight!"

"Indeed, my master, it is certainly not advisable to catch a cold during this period," a deep voice cut in, amidst the sea of panic and home-wide chaos. "Your current condition allows no room for any ailments. Please, accept the jacket and remember to take a box of tissue before you tuck in for bed. I can only assume it will be colder from tonight onwards."

Hitsugaya sighed at the back of his head, receiving the navy blue jacket from his servant's trembling arms as a way of assuring the long line of servants and maids, and thanked them below his breath as he opened the grand door to his room and lied down on his bed, left by himself to wonder how in the world twenty-seven degrees Celsius was, in any way, cold.

* * *

_Sorry for so many paragraph breaks, but they were necessary._

_To compensate for such a long, tedious hiatus, I'll begin informing readers what to expect for the next chapter so that you won't always be held in suspense for almost a year per chapter (...I just realised how cruel I am to leave this fic alone for nearly a whole _year_). For example, next chapter, there will be some tension amongst the concours participants after they meet each other for the first time, especially between Ichigo and Ishida. To actually clear up some doubts, if you have any, Ichigo is not the Hino in this fic. In fact, every character here has a bit of everyone in Corda. Hint, read the section on Kusaka in this chapter._

_Okay, to reveal a bit about something else, the zanpakutou actually have a major part to play. For some of you who love the zanpakutou, especially after watching the recent filler, I hope this is something you'll be looking forward to, because I'm looking forward to writing about them as well! -smiles-_


End file.
